Ron's Dilemma
by TheAmericanWeasley
Summary: After overhearing his friends talk about their many sexual conquests, Ron's ego plummets to an all new low. When he attempts to drown his sorrows in alcohol, Ginny comes to the rescue, where Ron confides in his sister about his sexual deprivation. The next move that Ron makes will change everything and blur the lines between brother and sister. Written on request.


Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of _Harry Potter_.

This oneshot was written by request for **moonserenity089**.

* * *

_**Ron's Dilemma**_

a Harry Potter fan fiction

by TheAmericanWeasley

* * *

"Ron, move your head, I can't see!"

"Sorry mate," Ronald Weasley apologized through a chuckle, and moved his head to allow his friend Harry Potter a better view of the television screen.

It was certainly a good game. Puddlemere United was dominating the Tutshill Tornados 90 to 30. It was a lovely Saturday evening and Ronald Weasley, accompanied by his friends Harry Potter, Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom, and Dean Thomas, were enjoying their evening at The Three Broomsticks, growing drunk with joy as they watched the Quidditch game on the large, flat screen television mounted on a wall within the pub.

"I swear," Seamus Finnegan said, downing the last of his firewhiskey, "it's bloody amazing what the wizarding world has been doing to Muggle technology," he motioned to the television, "we're making it even better!"

The group watched for another few minutes, and clenched their bottles of firewhiskey in anger as the Tutshill Tornadoes seemed to be making a recovery, leaving the score at 90 to 70 by halftime. The men still cheered, however, as their team was still in the lead.

"Fancy more firewhiskey?" Ron suggested to his friends, noticing their empty or near-empty bottles.

"You know it," the young men all agreed.

Ron grinned and made his way to the bar. Part of him knew that since he was the least intoxicated of his mates, he really shouldn't be encouraging them to get even more drunk. Still, the night was young and he was just happy to be having time to spend with his male friends, without having Lavender breathing down his back.

Ugh. _Lavender._

For the last few weeks, Ron's girlfriend Lavender Brown had been clingy. _Unusually clingy. _ She would be waiting for him on the couch in their apartment, ready to jump him with annoying questions the moment he came home from work. She would insist on doing his laundry, just so she could smell it for another woman's perfume. He sent her a message that evening, telling her that he would be working late. A complete lie of course, and he knew that she would have it figured out by the time he returned home. He rolled his eyes at the thought and sighed, momentarily forgetting what he had gotten up to do.

"Ron!" Harry suddenly shouted at him from the table. "Our firewhiskeys?"

"Oh right," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

Once he had gathered the beverages, Ron returned the table with his mates. They were roaring with laughter and slurring incoherently. Ron grinned half-guiltily as he slid them their respective drinks, retaking his own seat and listening in on what Dean was discussing.

"You blokes know I became friends with Viktor Krum through work, right?" he slurred, "Viktor fucking Krum!"

"Yes, we know Dean," Seamus replied, "you brag all the bloody time about being friends with a celebrity."

"Anyways," Dean continued slowly, "he's been doing a lot of pleasure traveling lately, and he decided to invite me on his most recent trip to Los Angeles," he straightened up with pride, then continued, "I'm telling you bastards, American girls are amazing. We went to a club, and all I had to do was open my mouth and offer a few of them a drink, and they were practically drooling at my feet! 'Oh, your accent is so sexy and exotic!' one of them told me. They were all so beautiful, I couldn't decide which one I wanted to take back to the hotel with me! So…." Dean lowered his voice and leaned in, creating suspense, "I ended up taking _two_."

The others gave roars of approval, their faces breaking into wolfish grins. "What did they look like?" Harry inquired.

"Bloody gorgeous of course," Dean replied, "You know I'd never settle for less." Then he shrugged, grinning in slight embarrassment, "Then again, I was rather drunk, perhaps that's why they struck me as considerably less attractive the morning after. Regardless, I officially declare that threesome to be the best sex I've ever experienced. It was a night I'll never forget," he finished, licking his lips at the memory.

Dean's story brought forth a wave of confessions. The young men took turns around the table, swigging at their drinks and recounting their tales of impressive sexual conquests.

"I would love to have two at once," Harry admitted, "I get approached by women on the streets all the time—being The Boy Who Lived has its perks, you know—but never two at once."

"But how many have you taken home?" Seamus inquired.

"About five or six," he smirked in response, "I lose track."

Seamus took another swig of his drink. "Did I ever tell you I shagged my ex-girlfriend's mom once?"

"You did _not!_" said Harry.

"Sure as hell did!" Seamus insisted. (Ron rolled his eyes, growing sure that his friends had indulged in one too many drinks.) Seamus turned to address Neville, "What about you, Longbottom? Who've you gotten between the sheets?"

Neville licked his lips. "I don't mean to brag," he began, "but I didn't get that promotion at work last month just for working hard."

"Your _boss?" _Dean roared. Neville merely shrugged and smirked, enjoying his friends' reactions.

As the discussion continued, Ron looked down at the table, his face falling. Hearing his friends discuss such amazing sexual experiences brought him to a tragic self-realization: here he was, a mere twenty-five years old, in a committed relationship in which he was miserable. He felt restricted, both emotionally and sexually. Lavender was his first and, as of now, his only. Yet there was no passion, no fire when his skin touched hers—he felt like a virgin all over again. Amongst his group of friends, _he_ was the girl. _Fuck._ This was not acceptable.

By this time, the game had come back on, and the men returned their attention to the screen. Ron took this as an opportunity to escape (lest he hear more stories of his friends' sex lives and feel even worse)—taking a final gulp of his drink, Ron slipped from the table and out of pub, making his way into the cold streets, unnoticed by the other men.

Shivering, Ron tugged his jacket closer to his body and made his way up the street. As he turned a corner, he heard an eruption of cheers from The Three Broomsticks; Puddlemere United must have won. He grunted, his mood not even slightly brightened.

Ron's undetermined wandering eventually led him to the Hog's Head Inn, where he shrugged and stepped inside. Despite the general filthiness of the small pub, one thing Ron appreciated was the seclusion. He knew he would be able to get drunk and be miserable with little to no questions asked.

He quietly slipped into an empty seat by the counter and waited for Aberforth Dumbledore to notice him. The elderly man was tending to three other drunken souls on the other end of the counter, and upon noticing Ron, he approached him.

"Weasley," he greeted gruffly, "I don't believe I've seen you here since the battle."

"You haven't," Ron confirmed, forcing a smile.

"What can I get for you?"

"A glass of firewhiskey," Ron replied. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced an appropriate amount of money, which he handed to Aberforth, "and keep them coming for the rest of the night." Once Aberforth handed him the first full glass, it had disappeared within a minute down Ron's gullet, burning its way down his throat. Immediately, he slid the glass back to Aberforth for a refill, who responded with a slightly concerned glance, but refilled his glass with the alcoholic liquid nonetheless.

* * *

"_Move your body like a hairy troll … learning to rock and roll … spin around like a crazy elf … dancin' by himself."_

A loud, terribly off-key version of "Do the Hippogriff" by the Weird Sisters rang through the pub, the source of such noise being Ron Weasley and the three other men he had noticed earlier at the counter. Nearly an hour had passed since Aberforth had provided Ron with his first glass, and since then Ron had downed several more, making lazy communication with the other men in the pub, until, somehow, he found himself drunkenly dancing and singing with them, arms around each other's shoulders like they were the closest mates in the world.

"Oi Aberforth!" Ron hollered, "another round of firewhiskeys over here!" He raised his empty glass over his head, then dropped it on the counter when one of the other men bumped into him during a drunken dance.

"Damn it, Weasley!" Aberforth exclaimed, inspecting the damage.

"Relax, Abby! There's magic to fix that!" Ron removed his wand from the pocket of his paints and pointed it at the shattered glass, slurring a repairing charm whilst lazily waving his wand. The pieces of glass gave a jerk, but failed to come together.

"I think you've had enough, Weasley," Aberforth grunted. "Go home."

"But the night is young, Abby!" Ron grinned. "Come join us!"

"Get out of my pub, Weasley. Take your drunken friends with you. I'm closing up for the night."

Ignoring him, Ron pushed his way through the other howling men to stand on top of a table, where he began singing anew, at the top of his lungs. His mates gathered around him, chanting and singing along.

Aberforth huffed in disapproval, turning his back to the men. He was used to dealing with drunken fools, but _this_ many and _this_ time of night, in his advanced age as well, was too much to handle. And since Weasley appeared to be the ringleader of the group, perhaps if he could shoo him away, the few others would follow suit.

Aberforth produced his wand from the depths of his large pockets, determined to get these men out of his pub as soon as possible. Summoning the happiest memory (of the few happy memories) he possessed from childhood, a silver goat erupted from the tip of his wand.

"Get the nearest member of the Weasley family over here," he told the Patronus. "And make it quick. Tell them to get this bloke out of my pub."

* * *

"That was such a lovely evening, Ginny," said Hermione Granger, as the two young women made their way up the steps toward Ginny Weasley's apartment. The two close friends had decided on a girls' night out, which consisted of dinner at a restaurant in Diagon Alley, and general girlish chit-chat as they window shopped afterwards.

"Would you like to come in, Hermione? Have a nightcap, perhaps?"

Hermione seemed tempted, but shook her head in decline. "I really shouldn't," she said, "I've got things I need to tend to tomorrow morning, I should be in bed already."

"Fine," Ginny chucked, pulling her friend forward for a hug. "We should do this more often."

"We should," Hermione agreed.

The two women waved to each other a final time before Ginny entered her apartment, certainly not expecting another figure to be waiting for her, with a disheartening message to deliver.

* * *

"Took you long enough," Aberforth grunted to Ginny Weasley when she entered the pub.

"What a nice way to greet someone," Ginny replied, rolling her eyes. "I Disapparated here as soon as I received your Patronus."

"Get your brother out of here," he insisted, "I'm too old to be dealing with this kind of buffoonery."

Ginny turned to observe the spectacle that was her brother, a twenty-five year old man and celebrated war hero, making a complete drunken fool of himself on top of a table, singing in loud, off-key slurs.

Rolling her eyes again, Ginny pushed her way through the small group of men until she reached the table her brother was standing upon. "Ronald Weasley," she said, in a voice so forceful it would make her mother proud, "get down from that table right now."

She grabbed him by the arm to pull him down, which negated the little bit of balance he had. Ron fell from the table, turning it over in the process and landing on his rump. The other men guffawed, but Ron's state of intoxicated carelessness seemed to be momentarily compromised at the sensation of pain.

"Gin, what the _fuck_ did you do that for?" he whined, rubbing his sore arse.

"You're a complete idiot, Ronald Weasley," said Ginny, as she helped her older brother to his feet. "You're drunk and you're embarrassing yourself."

"Not at all!" one of the other men chuckled. "Ronnie wasn't just making noise, he was making this place fun!"

She groaned in disgust, hating being around people this drunk. "Come on Ron, I'm taking you back to my place." Taking her brother by the hand, she led him out of the pub to Disapparate. Passing Aberforth, she looked him in the eyes and said, "I apologize for my brother. It's not like him to get this out of hand."

* * *

"Have a seat, Ronald," Ginny insisted once they had arrived at her apartment. When he only responded in an incoherent mumble, she gently pushed him down on her couch. "Stay there."

"Where are you going?" Ron managed to say.

"To get you a sobering potion. I think I have some in one of my cupboards."

"And you're gonna give me shit for getting drunk and having a good time? Look at you—you already have sobering potions prepared for your days off!"

"I honestly don't get drunk often, Ron," Ginny replied, "but at least when I do, I'm prepared. Now stay here, I'll be right back."

She returned to the living room several minutes later, holding a glass of a light purple liquid. "Drink this," she said, shoving it into his hands, "you'll feel better."

Ron sat up, his head swimming, and pressed the glass to his parted lips. The liquid was refreshingly cool and sweet in his mouth, but he noticed no immediate effect. "I don't feel any different," he slurred.

"It's going to take a minute for the potion to set in. Just keep drinking and relax."

She felt almost motherly watching her brother drink and rest. He closed his eyes after a minute, probably feeling the effects of the potion, which she took as an opportunity to slip into her bedroom to change. She removed the dress she had been wearing in exchange for a more comfortable singlet and shorts, then prepared some tea for the two of them in her small but manageable kitchen.

Ginny returned to the living room to find her brother sitting up straight, with the empty potion glass sitting on the coffee table before him. She handed him his cup of tea, which he devoured gratefully, enjoying the taste of something warm and soothing. Ginny took a seat next to her brother on the couch, waiting.

Finally Ron spoke: "Gin, what the hell am I doing here?"

She smirked at her brother. "It seems that you had too much to drink tonight Ronnie. Aberforth sent a Patronus to me to take you home. I figured I'd bring you here to sober you up before you go home, because….well, you know."

"Lavender," he spat. "So you're aware she's a controlling bitch, too?"

"Ron, that's not nice! Granted, I know Lavender can be a bit … abrasive, perhaps. Maybe a bit over-emotional too. But it's because she cares about you. To call her a bitch just isn't right."

"Bless your heart Ginny," Ron chuckled. "You always try to see the good in people, even when you _know_ she's just a controlling bitch."

When Ginny didn't respond, Ron continued, "Thanks, by the way. Hope I didn't do anything embarrassing."

"Well, would you consider singing on top of a table embarrassing?"

Ron groaned, closing his eyes. "I did _that?_ That might have been the most drunk I've ever been. I'm sorry, Gin, you must've been enjoying your Saturday night and now you have to spend it babysitting me."

"It's all right, honestly. I spent some time with Hermione, that's it. But now—" she began seriously, removing his cup of tea and setting it on the coffee table next to her own warm beverage, "—tell me what's wrong."

"What makes you assume something's wrong?" Ron was suddenly defensive. "I didn't know it was some crime for a bloke to go out and just enjoy himself."

His sister raised an eyebrow. "I've seen you drunk before, Ron, but never that drunk. What's wrong? Are you and Lavender fighting or something?"

"I wasn't drinking over Lavender, no. Well, not exactly, I guess."

"Then why get so drunk, then? What's troubling you?" she inquired, curious.

"You'll probably think it's stupid."

"Just tell me anyway." (She hated people testing her patience.)

He sighed, no longer feeling drunk, but sad. "Tonight I was watching the game at The Three Broomsticks with the guys...you know...Harry, Neville, Seamus and Dean. At first everything was fine and we were having a good time. After a few drinks, everyone was getting drunk, I was taking it easy…"

(Ginny quirked an eyebrow. He certainly wasn't "taking it easy" in the state she found him in, but she continued to listen.)

"At half time, I went to get more drinks and when I came back…" Ron laughed bitterly, remembering the topic of conversation, "when I came back, the guys were talking and laughing ... their words were slurred and were drunk off their asses. They were talking about girls. At first it seemed okay to listen, blokes talk about girls all the time. But as I sat there and continued to listen, I realized they were talking about some the girls they had sex with." Ron shook his head while he started to laugh. "And the more stories I heard, it just made me think that I'm complete fucking virgin compared to my friends. They've all had these amazing experiences and..." He paused. Ron started to feel his eyes getting watery with suppressed emotion.

"And what, Ron?" Ginny asked, placing a hand on her brother's shoulder. "Tell me."

He hated himself for allowing a single tear to fall down his cheek, but continued regardless. "And the only experience I have is with the only girl I've ever slept with. And it's with my girlfriend, who've I been with for two years and it's going nowhere. I've wasted the last two years in a committed relationship, with the same girl I dated back in sixth year. And it's still a mistake. I could've been a single guy like my friends having fun. But no, I'm twenty-five and feel like an old, miserable fart!"

Ginny put her arms around him, pulling him close. "But I don't think you realize how—" she gritted her teeth, forcing herself to say something positive about Lavender, "—_beautiful_ your relationship with Lavender is. Do you know how many men your age are willing to stay in a faithful, committed relationship? Not many. Sometimes it's good to be different."

"Still makes me a fucking girl," he murmured miserably into her shoulder.

"You just need to work things out with her," she reassured, "There must be something between you if you've been together this long."

"There isn't. I don't love her. She's made a fucking loser out of me. I'm such a loser, Ginny!"

"Don't say that, Ron," Ginny insisted, pulling away from the embrace so she could see her brother's expression. She cupped the sides of his face, wiping away the traces of tears on his freckled cheeks.

Staring, Ron had never noticed how beautiful his sister's bright brown eyes were. They were warm and comforting, reminding one of a cup of tea or a taste of chocolate, and they were only complemented by the freckles sprinkled along her nose and cheeks, like cinnamon or brown sugar.

The sudden closeness of a woman—a woman other than Lavender Brown—had provoked a reaction in Ron's pants; a reaction that would be very hard to hide in a few seconds. At any other point in his life Ron would have found being excited by the closeness of his sister to be disgusting, but at this point he was too vulnerable and desperate to resist such a golden opportunity: he kissed her briefly.

Ginny blinked several times in disbelief. Had her brother really just brushed his lips against hers? Judging from the lustful look glowing in his blue eyes, and the noticeable bulge in his pants, he had.

The living room was suddenly hotter, and the desire to kiss her older brother again swelled in her heart, and caused a warmth between her legs. Leaning in, their mouths met anew. Their mouths moved sloppily against each other, tongues battling for dominance, as Ron began to tug at her clothes impatiently. He managed to remove her top, but struggled with the shorts, where Ginny was more than happy to help him. She was left in a deliciously brown lacy push up bra, with what appeared to be matching panties.

"As much as I enjoy this," he tugged at one of her bra straps, "I must insist that it goes." He made a move to unhook her bra, but Ginny stopped him.

"Not here," she said, "my bedroom."

Grabbing her older brother by the hand, Ginny led him down the hall to a door, opening it to reveal a small, modestly furnished and decorated bedroom.

"Off," Ron insisted, fighting with her bra once again. He reached around her to properly unhook the damn thing and letting it fall to the carpeted floor, her panties following soon after.

His eyes widening, Ron took in the sight of his naked sister for the first time. Had she always been so developed, so womanly? And if so, how could have gone so long without noticing? (Of course, not until just a few minutes ago had he ever considered his younger sister in a sexual way.) Her breasts swelled into perfect C-cups, with rosy, pink nipples hardening at the peaks. A trail of cinnamon freckles danced down her navel, leading to a pair of creamy thighs, where between them rested a triangular piece of pink, wet flesh.

He made a move to kiss her, but Ginny turned her head to focus on the removal of his trousers, which she seemed to be struggling with in the heat of the moment.

"Allow me," breathed Ron. He pushed her onto the bed and swiftly removed his own clothing, joining Ginny's discarded articles on the floor. The young woman moaned, watching from delight on the bed as her older brother's impressive cock sprung into her vision for the first time, finally liberated from the restraints of his trousers.

She spread her legs to allow Ron to position himself before her. Smirking, he smacked his erection against the inside of her thighs, and brushed the head along the entrance of her womanhood. At the slight contact, Ginny arched her back and threw her head against her pillow.

"You like that, sis? Fuck, you're completely soaked." He rubbed the head of his cock along her dripping pussy again, this time elongating the contact, and basking in her reaction. He pressed against the aroused nub of her clitoris, grinding the length of his cock against her weeping womanhood, teasing her deliciously. She responded by grinding her pussy against him in return, her mouth hanging open as she grunted in pleasure.

"Ron," she gasped, "I'm gonna…."

"Cum?" he completed her statement, "you're gonna cum from grinding against your brother's cock?"

Biting her lip, she whimpered and nodded, feeling the pool of warmth between her legs begin to tingle as an orgasm approached her.

Ron moved down her body to rest his head between her legs, where, upon licking her only once, she came on his face in a violent squirt. He smiled as his little sister's scrumptious pussy juices coated his face, slurping the remains from her opening. He deftly swirled his tongue around her swollen clitoris before running it along the length of her pussy, teasing her vaginal opening.

He could feel his sister squirming above him, still sensitive from the effects of her first orgasm. He knew if he kept this up, it would be mere moments before she came again. This time, however, he wanted her climax to be on his cock—to feel his little sister's pussy tighten and release around his manhood in ecstasy. So, he removed his head from between her legs, replacing it with his cock. His eyes locked with Ginny's as he slowly slid into her, enveloping his throbbing erection with his sister's tight womanhood. The siblings groaned in unison as Ron began thrusting into her violently. He placed his hands on the sides of her torso to steady himself, pounding into Ginny's body, roaring in pleasure like a beast feasting on its prey. Her pussy was tight, warm, and impossibly wet around his cock—and, for a moment, Ron felt like a virgin all over again, experiencing the pleasures of a woman's flesh for the first time; the feeling was just so damn good. He eventually developed a rhythm, and moved his hands to cup her breasts, skillfully teasing her aroused nipples.

Ginny was melting into her brother's body like ice cream on a hot day. When his shaft hit her clitoris, she succumbed to a second orgasm, the waves of pleasure tearing through her body as her older brother continued to pump into her.

The room was hot with the friction of their aroused bodies in such passionate contact: the sound of skin against skin—flesh pounding against flesh—combined with the sound of resisting bedsprings, filled the bedroom with noise. He locked eyes with his sister once more, and with a final thrust into her dripping womanhood, Ron became undone. He felt the flood gates open, and roared Ginny's name. When he felt his cum burst out of his cock in large powerful spurts, Ginny wrapped her legs around his waist as she felt her core become flooded in hot waves of her brother's incestuous seed. Ron kept thrusting through the powerful waves of his climax, his milky white seed running all over Ginny's thighs and onto the bed sheets. The raw passion he possessed in his final thrusts made Ginny slip into a third and final orgasm, and she closed her eyes and enjoyed the overpowering sensation, her body turning into jelly on the mattress.

"Oh shit," Ron cursed under his breath, finally slipping his cock out of his sister's satisfied pussy, "that was bloody amazing."

"I never knew a man could make such a mess," Ginny chuckled in her post-sex glow, observing her brother's seed splattered on her sheets. (She kicked the sheets down to the foot of the bed to be washed later.)

Ron curled up next to his sister on the bed, slithering a sweaty arm around her to pull her close. Their bodies radiated with a welcoming warmth, and he kissed her perspiration-coated forehead in appreciation for what she had just done for him.

"I definitely want to do this again," he said seriously, staring at Ginny.

Ginny stared back at her older brother. She had done the unthinkable: allowing another Weasley to taint her body with his incestuous seed. And, to make matters worse, _she had enjoyed it._

The young woman didn't know what this meant for her relationship with her older brother, but as long as it involved more amazing, dirty, sinful sex like that she had just experienced, she would take whatever was to come, and enjoy every second of it.

So, she scooted closer to Ron, her beloved older brother. Kissing him once on the lips, she replied, "And we will."


End file.
